


he wouldve shot her dead

by holless



Category: The Witch's House
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Body Horror, Eye Trauma, Gen, Gore, One Shot, for now at least, i might continue this? if anyone likes it? or maybe not idk!, in which everything isnt awful all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 17:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14477892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holless/pseuds/holless
Summary: An alternate ending to The Witch's House in which Viola's Father doesn't murder a mutilated child he finds in the woods, and maybe things aren't super awful





	he wouldve shot her dead

**Author's Note:**

> hootie-fucking-hoo here we go

"What- Why-"

Right before his eyes, there was something horrific crawling toward him.

It had a long, stringy mess of blue-purple hair, partially hanging in the way of two bloodied pits of gouged out eyes. Its whole face was a mess of blood, dried and cracking with the movements of its mouth, but still dripping steadily from its chin to the dirt. Its arms were shaking and spasming, the hands seized up in desperate claws as it dug them into the earth rhythmically. With each claw of dirt, it pulled itself forward - its only mode of transportation, given the fact that its entire lower body was absent. A river of blood stained the dirt behind it for as far as he could see.

Mark pushed his daughter behind him immediately and automatically, and she went willingly, hiding behind his shoulder.

It was only when his hand was halfway to his gun, a cry of warning halfway to his lips, that he realized.

That was a human. A human girl.

He was sent reeling. The incoherent groans sounded not of those belonging to a nightmare of his imagination, but of a human girl - _she couldn't be any older than his own daughter._

He fought back vomit. This was too much - how was- what had happened too- if he had been a moment too late...

He would have shot her in the head. He'd thought she was a monster. Viola said something behind him, but he was focused wholly on the moans of the mutilated child before him.

"Hh...Helh...Pp."

_Help._

Maybe it was some inherent fatherly instinct, for the next thing he knew he was at the girl's side. His knees sank into the wet ground, be it wet from the blood or the endless rain he didn't know. He wrenched his phone from his pocket, and despite the droplets that adorned it in seconds he was able to punch in a number. A tinny voice answered.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There is a little girl near the entrance of Watson's Woods, roughly a mile south of the park. She is heavily injured with missing legs and eyes. There is a lot of blood." His dialogue was rushed and awkwardly stunted - he knew he was panicking, but this wasn't his first emergency call, and he at least spoke clearly.

"Can you identify the responsible party?"

"No. I ca- I don't know what happened."

"Are you familiar with any first aid procedures?" Mark almost cursed out loud at his stupidity.

"Yes. Should I begin administering them?"

"Yes. There is an ambulance on the way."

"Alright, thank you." He hung up quickly in favor of dropping his phone straight onto the muddy ground and rummaging through his backpack for bandages. He found himself immensely grateful for his previous hunting experience - when his friend almost found himself mauled by a bear, Mark had to care for the injuries, and since then he'd rarely left home without some kind of first aid equipment.

"Viola, sweetie, would you find a sturdy stick for me?" He asked just as his hands met the cloth, trying to keep his voice steady so as to not frighten either girl. At the lack of response though, he glanced up at his daughter.

She was standing perfectly still. The heavy wind whipped wisps of her messy hair into her face, and the pouring rain formed rivulets of water that ran down her limp arms. Her face was entirely blank, though her bright eyes were focused solely on the girl. He'd never seen that face on his daughter, and he felt an irrational, cold pang of fear.

"...Viola?" No response. He attributed it to shock.

Mark whipped his own head around and was lucky to find that a stick was only feet away, half covered in dirt. He wrenched it up out of the ground, then crawled toward the girls lower half.

"Hey there, sweetie," He began as softly and sweetly as he could, maybe even overly so. She groaned something in response, and though her noises were entirely meaningless, he could tell she was trying to form words. "Shh, Shh. It's alright, you're alright, I've got you."

Maybe it was that fatherly instinct that had him speaking so kindly to her. He couldn't identify why - maybe something in her wrecked voice, or her shaky movements, or the way her slack face was focused on him alone - but for whatever reason, it was impossibly easy to see his own girl in her place. He blinked, and for a moment it was instead golden braids that fell matted with blood, and a ratty white dress hanging around bloodied stump legs. He blinked again, and the illusion was gone, but then he was moving twice as fast.

His lip trembled, and he felt his collar grow sweaty. However, he kept his cool, despite the way every fumble and misstep around the injury had the girl clearly choking in pain. He managed to get the bandage in place though - tucked all the way up against her torso, the cut-off was so high - and he proceeded to twist the stick, tightly tying the gaping sore together to the point at which it no longer poured blood. There was another stick. He grabbed it and set to work on the other leg, grateful that he was wearing gloves.

He felt a sinking sense of horror deep in his gut, for he knew there was almost no way for the girl to come out of this alive. She'd dragged herself along the dirty natural ground, easily exposing her bloodstream to all the germs in the environment. She was losing blood so rapidly and had to have been for a long time. And yet still... There was a chance. There was the slightest chance, and he clung to it with both hands as he finished tying the tourniquet around her other leg, then moved up to her head, speaking sweet reassuring nothings all the while.

"I'm going to bandage your eyes now, alright?" Once he'd reached the second leg, she'd stopped vocally signifying her pain, and he figured her capacity for it had been so far maxed out she was rendered unable to feel anymore. It was remarkable that she was still conscious. Nonetheless, he thought it wise to warn her as he began gently wrapping up the entire upper portion of her head. He knew he couldn't possibly be doing this correctly, not everything was solved with extreme usage of bandages, but he didn't have much else at his disposal, and it would likely be a bit longer before emergency workers arrived. He just hoped it would temporarily be enough.

He tied the knot at the back of her head, and he could already see the beginnings of bloodstains where the injuries were. There wasn't anything more he could do. To his surprise, the girl suddenly flopped down onto his knee. He froze, and she held onto him with shaking hands, breathing heavily. In the most comforting gesture he could manage, he settled his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair soothingly. She had stopped attempting speech, but her breathing was audible.

There was a moment where they were all still, and the girl rested in his lap. The rain poured, and the ground was soft, and yards away Viola stood with her dress slowly blowing in the wind. And he felt the most bizarre connection to the girl on his knee.

Almost as if she was his own daughter.

Just then, the bushes rustled, and a crew of four paramedics carrying a stretcher came sprinting in. They had to have been trained in this sort of thing, but he thought he saw one's steps falter with horror. They pushed past a still motionless Viola and settled beside Mark. The girl in his lap aimed her sightless head up at them with a weak groan. Three of them prepared the stretcher, while the other began talking to the girl as if Mark wasn't there.

"Hello, darling," She spoke softly, with a slight southern accent. "You just stay still there, alright? You're gonna be just fine." She smiled, despite the fact that the girl couldn't see it. She was trying to keep her calm, just as Mark had been. And then the girl was gently - but quickly - being pulled off of his lap and onto the stretcher. In impossibly fast motions, there were buckles around her shoulders and waist. They lifted her up, but suddenly she started making noise.

"Dhh...Dhad...Y...! Dha..." She reached out a trembling arm, and his heart stopped when she pointed it at him.

"Do you want him to stay with you, baby?" asked the woman, and the girl, to everyone's surprise, nodded in clear response. Mark hadn't realized she was aware. "Alright, he can come along in the ambulance if he would like," she met his eyes, and he nodded, taking a few paces to meet them.

"Yeah, okay, I'm right here," her arm fell back to her side as she looked back up at him.

"Dhh...Dh..." she uttered weakly.

They held the stretcher and ran, with Mark right in their wake. It was more of a jog, as they tried to keep the child steady, but everyone there knew if they took too long she wouldn't survive. As they pushed back past Viola, he grabbed her hand. She almost fell over, but she found her stride and began running alongside them, still dead quiet.

Halfway through the run, the girl went equally silent. Their pace didn't slow.

When they reached the ambulance, pulled halfway into the forest, the paramedics loaded themselves and the girl up into the back with Mark and Viola following immediately behind.

**Author's Note:**

> wild. imagine the possibilities that come of *not* shooting your daughter dead. whodve thought.
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading! i started writing this at midnight like all my stories i guess, sorry its kind of aimless. i might end up adding more though - im really interested to see how this scenario would play out but i mean. writing. ugh.
> 
> anyway if youre a fan of the witchs house in 2018 hit me tf up!!!!! i finished it just days ago and ive been crying nonstop


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